This is how we run
by Nytlover
Summary: rated M for a reason. Anella is a girl with a horrid, depressing life. After being used and abused, Anella is found by the owner of the village and he's more than angry. He's hell. He's the devil himself.
1. Chapter 1

This is how we run

Prologue

**The thunder echoed loudly, **completely horrid and evitable, coming closer every step she took. Her feet pounded on the cobble road, thudding fast through the night like a horse with his carriage. The small body she ran with slowed down with exhaustion and huffed and puffed with exhilaration. It took effort to get to where she was, and even though it hurt her, she was proud of where she was.

She must admit, it wasn't the best of places to be. It was actually quiet dreary and risky. Her torn garments flapped loosely around her body, showing exactly how much time she's spent in them, showing just how much thought was given to her wellbeing. The clothing was murky and damp, filthy and raggedy. Even though she craved for a bath she hadn't had in so long, she fought on ahead, towards what she hoped would be safe enough. Right now, to her, anything was safe enough, as long as it wasn't _there. _

Now, I guess she should explain. This girl, she was sixteen, young and not innocent in the least. She had wild black hair, with the tint of green in which she somehow inherited from people who have brown and brown hair. Not just brown, but puffy, horrible, dried out hair which stuck in all directions and looked as if it had toned out and became red. She was lucky in a way, because she'd rather not look like an electrocuted clown. She was tiny, thin and bony all around. Who could blame her? She hadn't eaten a good meal in so long. She had faded out eyes, ones that showed just how much she was abnormal. Towards anybody she knew or had the decency to meet, thought she was the devil's advocate or child, and deserved everything she had coming to her. They treated her harshly, corrupting her into thinking she should die, and if she shall not die my her own merciful hands, then she shall cower under the touch of horrid people, who did many the worse to her body, and deceived her, making her think she was likable until they took her over, and used her to their own wicked needs.

She felt violated and disgusting, but what did she deserve? She was the life they owned. They were the lives she cowered under, and obeyed, and used to cry about. Now she cried nothing.

This girls name was Anella, and she was me.


	2. Chapter 2

1.

I ran though the crowded streets, lowering my head against their definite stares, the glares and all. I brushed against people who groped and laughed at me, toying with my mind until I couldn't breathe, couldn't escape.

I stopped near a hut cornered against the wall, the growling predators surrounding me. There were three of them, all tall and tough looking, all hungry for something I didn't want to give them, but knew I couldn't fight. I wasn't crying, I wasn't fighting, I didn't hear them, and I didn't speak, but I did fear them. They terrified me, making my heart race to their satisfaction, making the joints in my jaw lock as they grabbed hold of my chin, forcing my lips to another as the others laughed and cheered like the _things _they were. And I wondered why nobody ever stopped them.

How could someone ever endure this misery?

They fiddle with me, playing their dirty games, before they leave my shivering, almost completely naked form tattered on the ground, waiting patiently for the storm to bellow louder and take away the life that was left breathing in this body.

Was I truly a devil's child? I was no advocate, that's for certain. I've had no hand in what the devil does, and I sure have never spoken for him. What was the use of an advocate when he could speak for himself? A devil that lives on land would do his own deeds, would he not? He would have no need for others to do his biddings, but of course, a devil was a devil, and nobody questioned why he was so lazy and had to kill many a person to do his dirty deeds. But you never judge a book by its cover, because surely there's a reason for what he does. Why send a devil to do a dead persons job, right?

And at that moment, all I wanted was to die quickly. But nothing ever goes as planned. Damn.

It was musky out, due to the late storm. Still, the breathing body still breathed. I was still awake, and I wasn't happy. I was never happy to begin with. Actually, had I ever felt happiness? From the moment I was brought into this world, I had been nothing but a misery child, and treated to such that makes a child miserable.

I have never felt the need to smile, to meet and greet and associate with people who were normal and genuine. I have never laughed freely, only crazed. I had never considered running until they took away what little was owned by me.

I thought I would die quickly, but it seems I've still to pray. Pray to whom? Whoever would take me away? Of course, I wasn't expecting to be taken away alive.

He showed up late, the sun was down, and the night had been out for so long that time had been lost. He didn't intend to see me, he was out for his normal night procedures, roaming the village he owned, but obviously didn't know much about, if he had left me to rot like this?

He was surprised to say in the least, of course, he almost tripped over me. I was hidden behind the hut, and had those men known that he was going to pass by, I knew full well that they would have moved me elsewhere. To kill one in his village was murder, and he took away murderers. The pray they murdered usually never survived though.

He crouched in front of me, black eyes roaming the torn clothing, to the rotting body. He was angry. I could see it from his hardened face to his locked jaw. I couldn't decide whether or not I was scared, or thankful. I had never been thankful.

He talked, he hissed, he swore and he growled. I never understood a thing he spoke. He picked me up, careful of any damage to my body, and believe me when I say, moving hurt.

"Who did this to you? They'll be punished severely and immediately." He picked up my tattered dress draping it over my stomach while he got a better hold of me.

I found that I couldn't speak. I couldn't utter a word, and then he'd leave me, and then I'd be here to endure the pain once again. I couldn't go through that pain again. I refuse to go through that again.

I forced myself to speak.

"Then you shall burn the whole village."


End file.
